


not for the others

by XeauxGhough



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, And Dib googles how to be a normal kid, Depression, ETF compliant, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everyone Thinks They're Together, Fluff and Angst, High School, Irkens don't have emotions, M/M, Referenced suicide, Show Compliant, That's definitely true and not a lie, Zim googles how to relationship, they're both just dumb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2020-10-18 17:43:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20643149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XeauxGhough/pseuds/XeauxGhough
Summary: Dib is just... tired of fighting.Zim isn't really trying anymore anyway. So is it so terrible if Dib finally settles down and tries to find a normal life, with friends, and dates and, you know, normal teenage things?Apparently, yes. Yes it is.





	1. it's just that simple

He got the job, at least.

Dib looked down at the new uniform in his hands as he made his way to the bus stop. The bright pink color gave him a headache, and the cat logo was… demeaning. A poorly drawn kitten submerged in a coffee cup, with its backside sticking out? Who would _pick_ that? Dib stared at the crude ‘x’ beneath the tail before he tore his backpack off his shoulders and stuffed the shirt inside.

He huffed as he threw his arms through the straps again.

It was fine. It was a job. Hi Skoolers got demeaning jobs at cat-themed cafes and wore cat-butt shirts. This was normal.

He hated it.

The interview had gone… terrible. But apparently just the right side of terrible to still be hired? Like that was a thing. They were probably short staffed. Desperate. It didn’t matter. His first day was tomorrow afternoon and he’d prove to them, somehow, that he was worth keeping around for a while.

Gaz had gotten into his head last week, that’s how all this job nonsense had started. She had made a point to destroy the rest of his already crippled self-esteem, and _right_ after another victory in defeating Zim. He had been in his bedroom, minding his own business, jotting down the details of yet another alien doom machine that had yet another obvious defect in his journal. Dib had been laughing to himself. Stopping Zim was becoming easier and easier over the years, it was like Zim wasn’t even _trying _anymore.

“Is this what you’re going to do with your entire life, Dib?” She had darkened his doorway, furious after he had needed to take apart her Game Slave to disrupt the signals on Zim’s Destroy Bot. She had thrown what was left at his head, after. He still had the cut across his hairline.

“You mean save the world from the clutches of an evil alien invader? Yeah!” Dib had shot back. “Duh!”

“No, I mean being a fucking loser chasing after Zim! You’re in Hi Skool! You graduate in a year and go to college! You haven’t even made friends yet, let alone dated, or gone to a party, or did literally _anything_ someone normal has done since Middle Skool. Is this all you want to do for your whole life? Be _that kid _that is so _fucking_ weird no one even bothers to know your _name_?”

“They’ll know my name when I expose Zim to the world, Gaz!” He had yelled at her, and she had screamed back, frustrated, and slammed his door so hard the hinges rattled and his mothman figurine had clattered from his desk to the ground.

Dib had shrugged and went back to writing. He didn’t _need _to be normal. He didn’t _need _friends or, or… _relationships._ He needed to save the world from conquering alien races.

Not even giving Gaz a second thought, he had continued to sketch and write notes until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. And satisfied with himself, Dib had closed his journal, placed it back on his bookshelf among the other eight he had filled throughout the years, and gone to bed with a smile. Ready to see the defeated look of his arch-nemesis at Skool the next morning.

Then the next morning came.

Gaz still wasn’t talking to him, but that was normal, even without fighting. Dib had ignored her and walked his way to skool behind her and her new girlfriend Pax. The pink-haired girl was always around now, staying overnight on weekends, and coming early to walk with them during the week. She was nice to him. She made Gaz smile. They were happy.

Dib had caught himself staring at their hands in front of him a couple times, clasped together and swinging slightly, like they always were, all the way to skool.

He forced himself to look away, his own hands cold and shoving themselves in his coat pockets.

In class, Zim had been absent.

It wasn’t unusual after a fight, but Dib couldn’t help but to feel slightly disappointed. There wasn’t much to do, then, without Zim, but suffer through the next eight hours until skool let out. Zim was the only one who really paid attention to him, the only one he ever really talked to. So, without him, Dib readied himself for another boring day.

By third period, Dib had been scratching in his notepad, waiting for the bell to ring. His classmates talked beside him, around him, over him, like he wasn’t there. They made plans for the weekend, gossiped, laughed. Nothing new, and certainly, to Dib, nothing exciting.

But suddenly, as their chattering slowly entered Dib’s awareness, he put down his pen and focused around him.

He had known these people for years. Well, _known_, he guessed, was a strong word_. _The last time he really had a conversation with anyone in his class about anything but skool was… well, yeah. _Years_. The most he knew about any of them was the whispers he heard around the halls day in and day out.

When was the last time he did any of that? Laughed with someone? Gossiped? Made… plans?

Why did he suddenly want to do those things anyway?

Dib had turned back to his notebook, then, slightly frustrated. He glared down at the ruled paper. It was stupid, but.

He felt… left out.

Lunch came, and he, as usual, sat with Gaz and Pax. Dib had watched them as they laughed together, making fun of the other students and arguing about video games. They were close. They had inside jokes and secret looks and just, _knew _each other.

They were outsiders too, but not like he was. They each had friends on the side, it just happened to be that those friends were in other lunch rotations. If things were different, and if any of them were here, now, with Gaz and Pax, there wouldn’t be room for him.

He’d be at a different table, an empty one, out of the way, and alone.

The realization had fully hit him as he had shoveled the last of his canned green beans in his mouth.

He was a pity case.

He was an outcast, reject, wierdo—

And he was truly _alone_.

Skool let out on one of the longest days of Dib’s life. He had walked out of the building as people pushed past him. His classmates walked with each other, to go to each other’s houses, to go watch movies, go to the mall, get ice cream, go anywhere else, together, and happy. Even Gaz had went off as she normally did, with Pax.

Dib had went… home. Like he always did.

He had sat in his room, like he always did.

And he had stared out into the open space above his bed, and felt the emptiness in his chest, where it had always been, grow and grow and grow.

Two days later he had gotten on a bus to head into the city, to get a job.

He had come up with a plan, in the span of his weekend. His own Hi Skool already avoided him like the plague. There was no way he could save his popularity there, there was too much history, too much embarrassment and cringe in his ledger.

But people from _different_ Hi Skools?

He could fake that, fake being a normal kid with a normal job and eventually he could get normal friends and do normal, not-alien related things with them.

And that’s how Dib had found himself outside of Purr Catfé, desperate and hopeful, and only mildly repulsed.

Yeah, Gaz had gotten to him, and he would never admit it to her in a thousand years, but she was _right_. He needed to pick now, didn’t he? Whether he was going to be alone for the rest of his life or. Well.

_Not_, he guessed.

And dammit, he had saved the earth enough times to earn a friend, hadn’t he? To earn a little bit of ordinary.

The bus came pulling around the corner just as a new thought hit him.

Did he even know how to _make_ friends anymore?

Dib scoffed to himself as he got on. It couldn’t be too hard, right? You just, found a person with similar interests and did those things together with them.

He sat down in an empty row of seating and got out his notebook. Dib pulled the pen from the binding and clicked it with his chin, thinking of all the things he found interesting and jotting them down on the paper.

_Aliens. Cryptids. Ghosts… Robots... Space…_

Dib sighed and forced himself to stop.

Okay, well. Space he could work with. Robots maybe.

And cryptids were coming back, right? That Buzzfeed Unsolved on YouTube was popular. Serial killers were a little boring, but he could pretend. Is that what kids his age liked now? Ted Bundy and all those guys?

Dib stared at his notebook until the bus let him off at the beginning of his suburb. He packed his things up, temporarily defeated, and started his walk home. Instantly he was considerably less self-assured than he had been walking out of that café with that stupid uniform.

Either way, this was the year he was going to be a normal teen. As normal as he could be. He had decided. And after he graduated, and finally went off to college, no one would even know about the awkward kid he used to be. He’d have friends, and dates, and a car, and have a normal, regular, human adult life. This job was just practice, if anything.

His house came into view as he turned the last corner.

Dib felt his shoulders drop.

Gaz was probably still home, he’d have to sneak in if he didn’t want her asking any questions. If she found out about the job she’d never let it go. She’d make fun of him for _at least_ a month.

Oh _fuck_, was he making a mistake? Maybe getting a job was stupid. Maybe this whole _plan_ was stupid, and it didn’t matter where he went, or what he did, people could probably _smell_ the creep on him, couldn’t they? So what if he was alone? Didn’t he like it that way? He didn’t have to please anybody except himself, he only had to live up to his own expectations. It was comfortable. Safe. He could do whatever he wanted, whenever he felt like it. And maybe now he was too abrasive for friends, maybe it was too late, and he just didn’t pick up social ques, or smelled funny, or—or maybe he would end up freaking out a completely _new_ group of people and then the word would spread and every Hi Skool in the _state_ would know that Dib Membrane was a fucking _weird—_

“_OW!_”

Dib slammed into the concrete, his skull bouncing off the ground with the force of it.

His vision swam, and the headache was instant. He managed to raise himself up on an elbow right as he heard a familiar, squeaky voice that scraped through his ears like chalk.

“Excellent, Gir! Right on target!”

Dib groaned as he sat up the rest of the way. Something hard and heavy had hit him square in the stomach. He clutched his pounding head and looked down to stare at a familiar green dog, twisted up in his lap.

Gir stared at him with those soulless, fake eyes for a moment, then jumped up on his thighs.

“Heeeeeey!” The robot screeched. “I know youuu!”

Dib looked up further to see Zim, standing in front of him, human disguise and all. He held his hands on his hips, smugly smiling down at him. Dib sighed heavily.

He knocked Gir off of him and stood to brush himself off.

Gir, as usual, was unaffected, and began running around the two in circles the second he hit the ground.

“What do you _want_ Zim?” Dib looked down and glared at him.

“Filthy Dib-Monster!” Zim greeted, now having to look up and sneering about it. “You may have destroyed my Destroy Bot, but because of my HIGHER Irken intellect, I have now come up with a plan, a plan so many times greater than the _last!_ It will make all of you—pa-_thetic_ hyuumans, cower at the al-_MIGHTY_—!”

“I’m not doing this right now, Zim.” Dib suddenly grabbed Zim’s head and pushed him aside, knocking off his wig in the process.

“_Hey!_” Zim shrieked, scrambling to reposition his hair and catch up to where Dib continued to walk. Zim threw himself in front of him, trying to block his path. “Where are you going?”

“I have a headache.” Dib griped. Zim had rounded him regardless and was pushing against his stomach. Dib stopped with a groan and glared down at him. “I just want to go home, leave me alone.”

“You cannot go home yet, Dib-Stink! Zim has yet to tell you of his amazing plan! It is SO great, that Zim has graciously decided to _warn _you, so that you might prepare to save your _PUNY_ world from COMPLETE annihilation! Aren’t I nice?”

Dib watched as Zim smiled up at him, absolutely beaming, anticipating some sort praise.

Usually this was the part Dib screamed a bunch of nonsense back at him. Saying how he would defeat him, how Zim would never conquer the earth as long as he was around. Then they would be shouting at each other, for hours, back and forth. They’d fight a little. Dib would try and go break into Zim’s house, Zim would try to blow him up with his laser gnomes.

They had done this dance for years now. It hadn’t changed since the first day Zim landed on the planet and that creepy house cropped up down the street. Since the first morning a strange green kid had been introduced to his sixth-grade class. Dib had basically grown up with this— with Zim hatching half-assed plans to destroy the planet. Or at least the tri-state area. Sometimes just the local Bloaty’s. It didn’t matter the target, week after week after _week_, there was another one, another mission, another doomsday. And week after week after week, Dib was there, ready to fight.

Dib was so _tired_ of fighting.

He looked at Gir in his strange puppy suit and lifeless eyes, still racing around them, laughing and oblivious. He took in Zim’s growing confusion at his lack of response, the glint of ruby showing through his contacts, and the slight twitch of his hands as he clawed at Dib’s trench coat.

They hadn’t changed _at all_.

Zim still had the same terrible disguise, he wore the same clothes, the same hairstyle. He hadn’t even grown so much as an _inch_. At least Dib had another foot and a half on him, standing at six one now, while Zim stayed forever closer to four.

But even Dib, he hadn’t bothered to change his image _ever._ He had the same hairstyle too, the same glasses, same worn-out shirts in his closet, same trench coat. His whole class had grown up around the both of them, even Gaz had changed throughout the years. But him and Zim, they— they were stuck doing _this_.

Suddenly Dib realized he didn’t want to _do_ _this_ anymore.

If his plan was going to work, if he was _really_ going to reinvent himself, and become normal, and have everything he’s been missing in his life for literal _years_—

_This_ had to _stop_.

“Dib?”

Zim poked at his stomach. He was frowning up at him when he snapped out of his train of thought.

Dib met his eyes suddenly, which only caused Zim to flinch.

“Why are you acting all weird?” Zim asked, annoyed. “Did your ugly human brain finally collapse in on itself like some smelly, rotten—"

“I quit.”

Zim’s arms dropped.

A mixture of emotions Dib had never seen Zim wear tore through his expression all at once. Zim’s smile fell completely, shattered. He hesitantly took a step back, away from Dib.

“What?” Zim finally asked, large eyes blinking up at him.

Dib sighed, suddenly filled with guilt. He rubbed at his neck, unable to meet Zim’s eyes anymore.

“I’m sorry to- to just dump that on you but, I’ve been _thinking_ and I—”

“What do you _MEAN_ you _quit!_” Zim suddenly screamed, going from 0 to 100 in a millisecond. Dib reared back as Zim jumped at him, latching on to his shirt. He was angry now, Dib could feel the heat blaring off Zim’s strange skin with him so close.

“I don’t want to have this conversation here, Zim, just—”

“ANSWER ME!”

“I’m not _talking_ about this right now!” Dib tried to back away but Zim’s hands hooked themselves further, and his weird alien strength kept him where Zim wanted him.

“YOU _STARTED_ THE STUPID TALKING!” Zim suddenly let go and pushed at him, sending Dib stumbling backwards only to trip over Gir, who screeched at his shins as he collapsed. Dib caught himself before falling completely, but he could feel the gravel cutting into his palms under his weight. He felt Zim’s little claws hook themselves in his collar before he could stop them, and Zim shook him, once, moving to stand above him like Dib was still a twelve-year-old boy, like they were on the same level at _all_ anymore. Dib glared up at him, _furious_, as Zim met his eyes equally enraged.

“Now _ANSWER ZIM!_” He spat in his face.

“I mean I _quit!_” Dib screamed at him, tearing Zim’s hands off, and not caring when he heard the fabric at his neck rip. He retaliated and kicked out, knocking Zim to the sidewalk just as hard. Dib swooped up to his feet before Zim could collect himself and watched with a sick satisfaction as Zim’s eyes widened from the ground, with Dib looming over him now.

“I mean I’m done _chasing_ you, I’m done _fighting_ you. I mean I’m done _wasting_ my _time_ stopping your _defective_ little robots and _doomsday_ lasers and—”

“My robots are NOT _little!_” Zim screeched, shooting back up to his feet and squaring up as best as he could against Dib’s chest. “They’re—!”

“I don’t _care,_ Zim!” Dib shouted, quickly side-stepping him. Dib began towards his front door again, but Zim grabbed at him once more, catching Dib’s backpack and forcing him to turn back around.

“Leave me _alone!_” Dib struggled against him.

“You _can’t quit_!”

“I can, and I _did_.” Dib tore back around to face him so suddenly that Zim recoiled. Dib took a step and leveled himself with Zim’s face. “What’s the _point_ anymore? When’s the last time you _actually_ tried to take over the Earth? A year ago? _Two_?”

“Just last week I--!”

“Your Destroy Bot was going to take over basic cable, to get rid of _News at 10_. Before that you tried to switch around all the road signs on the highway. And before _that, _you mind-controlled the cashier at Bloaty’s to _give Gir free pizza_. All of that’s not exactly end of the world stuff! Maybe petty theft!” Dib argued, desperate to keep his breath. “Vandalism! _Still_ not my problem!”

“Are you trying to say that the Almighty Zim has lost your puny human interest!? It _that_ it!?” Zim cried out just as Dib heard the front door of his house open. He quickly glanced behind him in horror to see the door open wide, and Gaz and Pax standing there, _staring_.

“_Zim_,” Dib lowered his voice, annoyed. He looped his thumbs in his backpack straps and slouched forward to keep his face from view of his doorway. “_Look_, we graduate Hi Skool next year.”

“So!?” Zim roared louder, obviously not concerned that they now had an audience. Dib glared at him, his face on _fire_.

“_So._” He hissed. “You’re banished from your home planet, your leaders were swallowed up by a giant vortex thing—”

“A _Florpus_!”

“Fine. A fucking Florpus! It doesn’t _matter!_” Dib crowded Zim again, unable to stop himself from screaming back. He was upset, upset that Gaz was right and upset that Zim wouldn’t just _drop_ it, and so fucking upset that the things he knew best how to do in his life were stupid and pointless and… and _done_. “You have _nothing_ left to fight for, but you _keep_. _Doing_ it. You keep roping me into these _stupid _fights and battles to rule the Earth and destroy humanity but what’s. The. _POINT?_”

Dib was breathing heavy, expecting Zim to punch him, _wanting _Zim to punch him, scratch him, laugh. _Something_. But Zim was just – silent. Frustratingly quiet and _scowling_.

Dib forced himself to calm down, suddenly aware of just how loud his heart was pounding in his chest. He straightened himself out, removed himself from Zim’s space, and let his anger finally fade into familiar twinges of embarrassment and guilt.

Zim sniffed at him as he rose.

“So, that’s it, then. The Dib-Human will no longer fight Zim.”

Dib shrugged. He gripped his backpack straps closer to himself.

“I have to start thinking about college.” He sighed. “About my _life. _I’m leaving here in a year, Zim, what are _you_ going to do?”

Zim flinched as if Dib had struck him.

“_Leaving_?”

“Well, yeah,” Dib answered, softer than he was expecting to manage. He watched as Zim’s face crumbled. Dib didn’t know what else to do but keep talking. “That’s what humans do. They grow up, graduate, move on. What did you think I’d do, stay here with you forever?”

As the words hit him, Zim instantly paled.

Dib watched in horror as Zim’s contacts suddenly became glassy.

“Z…Zim?”

“This is a _trick!_” Zim choked out before wiping angerly at his face. Dib instinctively reared back as Zim activated his pack legs. He gawked at him, he had never seen Zim use his pack out in the open before, in bright daylight, in the middle of their cul-de-sac without a single care of who was there to see. Dib might have been giddy if he wasn’t absolutely terrified of being pierced through.

Zim surged upwards and grabbed violently at Dib’s coat collar. Dib stumbled forward into him, wrapping his own hands around Zim’s thin wrists to steady himself. Zim twisted his fist in the material, forcing Dib to look him directly in his eyes as he continued to scream at him. “This is a _nasty _little human _TRICK_! Stop saying these lies RIGHT _NOW_!”

“I’m not _lying,_ Zim! Ask literally anyon-_ekk!_”

Zim’s grip on his collar tightened and Dib could barely breathe as the material wrapped around his neck. Dib pushed at Zim’s face until he was forced to let go of him. He kicked out as he fell, sending them both stumbling from each other.

“My superior brain will not be fooled by you, Dib-worm!” Zim righted himself and lunged to grab hold of Dib again, but Dib wrenched his hands away before Zim could catch his shirt.

“Zim! Would you _stop!_” Dib shot out of Zim’s range and raced up the rest of the sidewalk to get to his front door. “It’s _over_! Just let it _go_!”

Dib shoved himself past Gaz without even looking at her, but he caught Pax’s wide-eyed expression, flickering between him and Zim, left alone back in the lawn.

“Fine!” He heard Zim screech from the street from the doorway. “Run, you _pathetic_— sm-_smeet-baby!_ I’m going to take over this tiny dirtball _nasty_ human rock with or without you, do you _hear me_? WITH OR WITHOUT _YOUUU!_”

“I DON’T _CARE_!” Dib shouted over his shoulder, one last time, and stormed his way up the stairs.

Dib’s ears were ringing as he threw his backpack in his room and slammed the door behind him, _hard. _The boom of wood on wood did little to sober him. Dib was _fuming_. He lashed out his hand, and the first thing he felt in his palm he _threw_.

Glass shattered against his closet door, he didn’t even know what it was. He couldn’t care— he _couldn’t care. _What was there to care _about_!?

Dib paced around his room furiously. Zim wasn’t _that_ important in his life. It’s not like they were _friends._ They were _enemies._ And _normal_ kids didn’t have enemies. So it wasn’t that big of a deal that they stopped this fucking joke of a rivalry. It didn’t _mean _anything!

Dib clutched at his ribs. He felt like crying, like- like _screaming_. He was so embarrassed and—and just— _fuck._

He collapsed into his bed and buried his face into his pillow. He forced himself further into the fabric, purposely making it hard to breathe, so he could have at least _some _control in his life right now.

After about five minutes he eventually had to surface for fresh air. As Dib turned his head, the cold hit his face and he suddenly felt the wetness around his eyes and down his cheeks. Which was _ridiculous_. There was no _reason_ to be this upset. And that fact only served to make him even angrier.

A while later and Dib heard the front door clicked shut downstairs. He heard who he assumed was Gaz and Pax walking up to Gaz’s room. Dib listened as that door shut too.

Zim would get over it. Dib knew he would. Zim didn’t _need_ him to continue plotting against the Earth. By skool tomorrow Zim would forget all about him. It was that simple.

Dib’s heart twisted.

Zim would go off and find another nemesis, a better one, and go off to try and take over the planet and have stupid fights, and death matches, and evil laughing fits with _them_— and Dib?

Dib would put that stupid pink shirt on and go to his _stupid_ fucking job.

_Simple_.


	2. first days are the worst

Another shot rang through the base.

Plasma sizzled, melting down the metal as it ate through the walls and wires.

“Stupid _DIB!_”

Zim’s pak legs condensed, dropping him to the ground hard as he fired his blaster wildly.

“Stupid _DIB_ and his—his_ STUPID! AAAHRG!_”

Glass shattered. His pak legs extended again and sliced through a monitor as he propelled himself forward, tearing at his wig and contacts. They flew off him, and as they landed, Zim whirled around and shot, disintegrating them in one.

Zim screamed and began clawing at his antennae instead.

“He thinks he can just _leave!_ That he can just, _just_—”

Another blast sounded out, plasma collapsing shelves of specimen containers. They crashed to the floor, glass and bubbling liquids spilling out across the metal.

Zim hadn’t felt such rage in his entire existence. He just wanted to _break_ things, he wanted them on fire, surrounding him, _scorching_ and _unbearable_ and _destroyed._

Resounding cries echoed out with blaster shots, until everything _was _on fire. Until he couldn’t breathe from the plasma discharge. Until the flames were so great, alarms rang out, and every room of the base was blaring red, every door was shuttered closed to impede the spread of damage. 

Sirens remained baring overhead, and Zim turned to annihilate each and every flashing light until the room was pitched into nothing but the suffocating glow of fire and smoke. Zim hunched over, breathing heavily. He heard the roaring before he could even think of putting in the command to stop it.

Zim’s eyes shot up at the ceiling just as foam exploded from the vents, gushing into the room like a tidal wave. The surge caught him hard, throwing him into the metal of the wall and drowning him as it swallowed everything else.

The room was plunged into total darkness, extinguishing the fires as it was meant to. And for a brief moment, all was calm.

Security lights flickered on, shortening here and there from the damage. Grates in the floors opened. And then slowly, slowly, the foam drained away, leaving only suds behind.

Dust and smoke swirled around the room, blown around by gasses hissing from punctured pipes. Cables hung, detached from the ceiling. The various liquids that had been spilled across the floor now mixed with what remained of the foam froth. Glass littered the grating. It spread out under the tables. Under the chairs, and monitors, and machines.

Zim felt it cut into his palm as he pushed himself back up.

His pak legs laid bent at broken angles. His blaster had been torn from his hand from the flood and thrown somewhere he couldn’t see. The deterrent had soaked through his uniform, and in some spots remained clinging to his skin.

He felt the chemicals burning him.

He felt his blood soak out from his hands.

He ignored it.

His legs condensed with a screech, desperate to fit together again, and Zim stood up.

He stared at the carnage for a moment, then turned around for the elevator.

The table hatch collapsed as Zim was deposited in the living room. He blinked at it. The vase had exploded on the hardwood, its single flower crushed underneath pieces of shattered wood. Dirt scattered.

There was a large portion of the kitchen wall missing. Zim could see the brick from the neighbor’s house. The piping in the ceiling hung crumpled. Wires swung low, exposed and sparking.

The one painting had been ripped from the living room wall. It now laid punched through and singed at the edges over the splinters of what used to be the coffee table. Stuffing and wood from the furniture was littered around. Pots and pans and panels from the house itself laid amongst the rubble and foam. The TV was shattered, screen bleeding dark and the picture flashing lines of red, black, blue.

Zim collapsed against what was left of his sofa. It was slanted now, cut in half and smoking.

The computer had been decidedly quiet as Zim had torn through his house, and even now it seemed to refuse to break the eerie silence that had fallen.

Gir was nowhere to be found. Plasma had only nearly missed him an hour before, and he had run screaming into the inner maze of the base.

Zim stared at his hands.

He was breathing heavy, still. His eyes were stinging. From the smoke, he presumed.

His fury had run dry quickly, and now all that was left was everything he had broken.

Zim felt so full. And empty. Anger had filled the holes in his chest, and now…

His throat felt tight. It _had _to be the stupid human earth air. It was toxic at the best of times but now, with him breathing so hard, it— it was _killing_ him.

His bones were shaking. His eyes _hurt._

The stupid _air._

Zim clenched his fists and shoved them into his eyes, pressing in, desperate for the stinging to _leave._

What was he supposed to _do_ now— he—

He _knew_ his tallest were gone. He _had _known. And if they weren’t, somehow, then they were still… He hadn’t contacted them in years, or even tried to. They wouldn’t come back for him. They weren’t coming to _begin with_.

But who _cared_.

They never appreciated him. His _genius, _his, his—

He was banished from his home planet, but that didn’t matter either. He was still an Irken invader. A _warrior_. And conquering earth was still his mission. A mission he assigned _himself _now. And not some stupid order from his… his…

It wasn’t like he _wanted_ to go back, anyway._ No one wanted him._

Zim curled in on himself. His fists pushed into his eyes until the pain was so intense it worried him, and even then, he pushed a little harder. With a tense breath hissing through his teeth, he finally relented, and dropped his hands down to his knees.

His vision pulsed, reeling back from blackness. Everything was blurry. Spotty. His face was wet.

The lights above him flickered twice before going out completely. The generator was busted, now, he guessed. All defenses would be offline. Earth could attack at any moment and destroy him. Except, they wouldn’t. Because only Dib ever tried. Only Dib ever cared and he had—

He was—

Zim had failed.

He _failed_.

Admitting it was like he had removed his pak and crushed it with his own _hands_. He felt like he had only minutes left to suffer this ache inside him, and then surely, _surely_, he would self-terminate on this grimy little spot on this stupid, horrible _dirt_-planet.

When he had discovered his tallest had meant to abandon him all along, that had torn his insides apart. When he had realized the years, and _years _he had spent, ignoring, or—or just not _noticing_. All the _jokes_, and the _laughing. _His whole mission had meant nothing. Zim had meant… and _now_. Now _Dib_ didn’t even see him as a threat. Now _Dib_ had— left. Him. _Zim._

Zim choked on the pressure in his throat. He clawed down his face, wanting to tear his eyes out. Wanting to tear everything out and replace it with something someone would find worth…

_Keeping._

Suddenly, Gir’s silver head poked up from the elevator shaft. His blue eyes shining into the darkness like twin flashlights. He spotted Zim easily, curled up behind the couch.

“_Master?_” He whispered out.

Zim’s antenna barely twitched as an answer. He drew his knees closer to his chest.

“Aww, _Master_, it’s not so baaad.” Gir creeped up on him, slow. Zim wondered if Gir was still worried that he had his blaster. Maybe he had forgotten already. Gir was defective. Trash. Like everything else. “We can always fix it!”

“No Gir.” Zim whispered back, then sighed. “We can’t fix this.”

Gir plopped down next to him, quietly. A moment passed, and then gently, he pulled out a stuffed pig from his head and placed it next to Zim, so that it was leaning against his leg.

Zim stared down at it, illuminated by Gir’s blue glow. 

They stayed sitting silently, side-by-side. A few more minutes passed, and they heard the backup generator core kick on. The lights flickered back to life.

The wreckage hadn’t disappeared, like he had hoped. If anything, in the new light, it seemed worse.

Zim stared out at it, lost in the tightness in his chest and emptiness between his ribs.

“Sir?” The computer suddenly rang out, hesitant. When it received no answer, it continued anyway. “There are multiple security weaknesses and defense protocol malfunctions. Do you wish for me to, um,”

The computer paused nervously just as they heard another set of pipes crash to the floor in the kitchen, shattering that table as well.

“Run diagnostics?”

“Do what you want.” Zim mumbled back, curling his arms around his shins further. The stuffed pig fell away. Gir stared at it sadly.

“What I… _want_, sir?”

Zim dropped his head to his knees. Antennae hanging limp.

“I’m detecting an imbalance in your chemical structure too, would you like for me to run a full body scan?”

“No.”

“But—”

“Computer!” Zim suddenly shot up. “What is it that humans do, when they’re all- _sad_ feeling.”

“Uhh- my processor is only 6 percent functioning, I, I do not have the full capacity to—”

“What!_ Why?_”

“Why? Because you _shot_ me!”

“Well answer anyway!” Zim demanded.

“_Fine!_” The computer answered and mumbled. “Why listen to me, right? I’m just a _freaking_—accessed. Apparently one of the most common counteractions to human sadness is engaging in… alcohol… consumption. And self-_termin_… _wait_. That doesn’t seem right, I—”

“Gir!” Zim barked to his side. Instantly Gir jumped to his feet, eyes bright red.

“Sir!” He saluted.

“Go get me this… earth al-col.”

“_Alcohol_.” The computer corrected.

“Yes, that.”

“Yes, my master!” Gir’s eyes flashed back to blue. “Waait. Are you sure?”

“Do not question me!” Zim shouted.

Gir’s head popped open instantly. He reached inside and pulled out a single can, holding it out to Zim.

“What is this?” Zim inspected it, hesitantly taking it from him.

“Beer!”

“Why do you _have _this?”

“Mm. Mmmmmmm.” Gir hummed, jumping nervously from leg to leg. He shrugged.

Zim glared at him, but returned his focus to the can and quickly pulled the tab. It hissed. Like cola. He sniffed it and recoiled instantly, sticking his tongue out.

“Sir, I must insist you reconsider. Irken biochemistry might respond dangerously to the effects of earthen alcohol. I’m pretty sure I’ve run the numbers before, but I can’t… _access_…” Zim heard the computer surge and clatter. Something down below must have fallen as it shook the ground beneath where they were sitting. “But it’s _bad_, it’s definitely _only_ bad. The components of some might even cause complications or, or—”

“_Silence!”_ Zim screamed again. “I am Irken _Elite!_ I… If these low-life _humans _can consume this filth, then so can _Zim_.”

“That’s not how that works!”

Zim ignored him. He brought the aluminum up to his lips.

Liquid spewed out instantly across the hardwood.

Zim gagged as he tried to scrape the taste from his tongue. It tasted _rancid_. Truly, _terribly_ _awful_—

“How can humans _drink_ this!?” Zim’s tongue hang from his lips, trying to rid itself of the slight burning sensation.

“Because it’s made _for _humans! Sir, I must really insist that you— oh my fucking Tallest.”

Zim braced himself and guzzled the liquid defiantly, forcing himself to swallow. It slid down his throat like acid, pooling thick in his organs. Zim coughed and gagged, unable to take any more, and began flailing on the ground in pain.

Terrified, Gir ripped the can from his hand and downed the liquid in one smooth drink. Zim let him, if to just get the horrible liquid away. He had heard about beer from Hi Skool. Pre-pubescent _smeet_-humans drank this stuff like it was nothing, and it was everything that Zim had ever imagined _disease_ to taste like.

“It’s _terrible_, its _disgusting_ its, _its!_ Oh.” Zim suddenly felt the fire in his stomach turn warm. Terribly warm. The feeling soaked into the rest of his body, down his limbs, up into his face, and suddenly, Zim felt all the pain and emptiness he had ever felt being pushed from his being by a throbbing pressure. Zim pawed at his cheeks, eyes wide. They were so— _floaty_. Everything so… “_Ooh_. It’s _working_.”

That comforting thrum spiked. Pressure turned to more pressure. Then more, then _too much_.

Zim felt all the nice floating feelings inside of him turn to lead. Everything in his head expanded, then imploded in the next second. He let out a wet gasped.

“Oh no.” The computer rang out.

Every emotion came crashing back into his ribs, like they were determined to break through bone. The pain behind his eyes doubled and burst through. Zim _crumpled_.

“Dib _left me_.” He choked out. He buried his face in his hands, devastated to feel the tears pouring down his face. “He just _left,_ and I—_I—”_

“Oh, Sir, come—come on, now, it’s all going to be okay.” The computer sputtered.

“Its _NOT!_” Zim wailed, collapsing into a pathetic sprawl on the floor. Puddles began forming on each side of his skull as he stared up at the battered ceiling.

Gir jumped and tore his pig away before it could be soaked from the flood.

“Im _NOTHING_. Not even some stupid _pig-human_ wants to be my enemy!” Zim hiccupped. “What am I going to _do_. What am I—Going to _dooo!”_

“Mary will fight you again!” Gir soothed him, knocking his metal hand down on Zim’s forehead repeatedly in what he presumed to be comforting. Zim flinched through his sobbing each time it landed. “You just got to show ‘em that— um, that—”

“What?” Zim sniffed, rolling his head to the side to face Gir.

“Uuuuuuuuh.” Gir frowned, worrying the metal edges of his hand. “Um, uh… Mary _loooves_ space! He stole the voot! He, he… crashed it. He likes stars! Make him _explooode_.”

“Make… The Dib…”

Zim suddenly shot up.

“_I can make him explode_.”

“What?”

“Huh?”

“Gir’s right!” Zim ignored them both. He jumped to his feet, desperately clutching the remnants of the couch to steady his wobbling legs. He clutched his stomach as nausea tore through him and his vision swam. His tongue felt useless as he slurred. “I juss have… to _prove_ myself! To Dib! I could. I could _kill_ him! For— _reals… and… _ This time! _Thissss_ time! He would _have_ to— see me as a threat again! He would wanna be my, my enemy again!”

“_I don’t think that’s how_—!”

“GIR!” Zim cut the computer off, swaying. “To storage unit Thirty-_SIX!_”

“_No!_”

“_Yaaaay!_” Gir shot off, blasting straight down the elevator shaft without hesitation.

“Sir! I really don’t think this is smart!” The computer pleaded as Zim clumsily made his way towards the same elevator he had come up. “You’re _inebriated_. You’ve _never_ used that technology. You didn’t _want_ to, remember?! It’s too unstable! You _can’t_—!”

“Leave Zim alone! I, I’ve made up my _geniusss_ mind!”

“It’s not safe! It could _destroy_ you, but most importantly, _me! _And everything else we—”

“Iff you’re gonna _complaain_, then run your _stupid_ diag- daga- dina-_nostics_ thingy!”

“_System diagnostics?_”

“_Yes!”_

“But _sir—_”

“Run them! Zim _COMMANDS!” _Zim screamed, climbing on to the pad and descending into the base without further argument.

The computer ran silent for a moment, listening to the crashes from down below as Zim no doubt stumbled around, trashed.

“You know what? Fine. _Whatever_.” The computer griped to the empty room, defeated and fuming as much as a computer physically could fume. It was the Earth’s problem. _Not_ it’s.

“_Running Diagnostics. Calculating time remaining_…”

* * *

“So how are you feeling?” Pax asked, side-eyeing him from her locker door.

“What do you mean?”

“Well.” She paused, packing more books in her bag. “You and Zim had a pretty big fight yesterday.”

“We fight all the time.” He answered, kicking at the rubber that was lining the lockers to the wall. He could feel Gaz staring at him too, but he refused to look at her just as she refused to speak.

“Yeah but yesterday seemed, I don’t know,” Her locker clicked shut. “Pretty official.”

Dib shrugged to himself. He just wanted the day to be over with. Twice now he’d had to talk himself out of calling up the café and informing them that he had thought about it and maybe he wasn’t _cut out_ for the job, turns out. Could you quit before you even started your first shift? They would laugh at him. They would tell everyone.

But that was stupid. It was _coffee_. He could _handle coffee._ He had been fighting alien invasions since he was _twelve_. Coffee and people were nothing.

And Zim. Well. Zim was _Zim_. He didn’t have a single fucking reason to feel this much guilt over cutting off their enemy ties. And Zim wouldn’t care either! And Dib couldn’t care less if the little monster ever came to skool again. His life had never been so quiet, than it had been the last few days. It could be like this forever if he’d just let it.

The warning bell rang out. Gaz grabbed her own backpack and shoulder-checked him as she walked past. Dib took it like he always did. He’d drink her last cola later to spite her.

“You’ll figure it out.” Pax smiled, walking quick to catch up with her. Dib watched them turn the corner, off to their classes. He pulled his books from his own locker and looked behind him, to the row on the opposite side. Zim’s locker wasn’t hard to pick out from the rest, seeing as it had a giant poster glued to it saying “Property of ZIM” in huge red letters. “Zim” in caps. Three exclamation marks. In sat there, untouched.

Dib glared at it, and slammed his locker shut.

The final bell rang for AP Calc and the class filtered in, taking their seats. Dib kept his eyes forward, focused solely on the board, just in case. But as the teacher walked in and closed the door behind him, he knew Zim wasn’t coming. Which was… fine. Normal.

“Dib!” Mr. Weasel barked suddenly, causing Dib to flinch violently in his seat. He stared up in horror as Mr. Weasel walked around his desk, setting down his briefcase, beady eyes intense behind his glasses. “Where’s Zim?”

“_What?_” Dib squeaked out, confused and quickly, stupidly nervous.

“He’s missed two days of class now.”

“I don’t- why would _I_ know?” He sputtered back.

Mr. Weasel eyed him strangely before shrugging.

“You’re his friend, you spend all your time together.” He answered, opening his drawer and throwing a bright pink chalk stick up on his desk. “Thought you’d know.”

“We don’t spend that much time together.” Dib grumbled. And they weren’t _friends _either.

Dib heard the snickering the second Mr. Weasel turned to the board. Under the screeching of chalk, he heard his classmates behind him.

“I_ heard they had a really big fight_.”

“_It’s about time, how could he even put _up_ with him_.”

“_Yeah, Dib’s a real _jerk.”

He glared at the board and sank into his seat as they continued.

“_I heard that he—"_

“Hey!” Mr. Weasel shouted, causing the class to recoil in unison. Suddenly a bright pink chalk stick went sailing through the room, flying over Dib and hitting the kid behind him straight in the jaw. “Class has started! Eyes up, mouths shut!”

Begrudgingly, his classmates quieted. Dib sighed as he grabbed his notebook. He opened his notebook, flipping through the pages, ignoring the numerous drawings of lasers and weapons and drawing of stupid green aliens.

He landed on a mercifully blank page and began writing down equations, with the rest of them.

* * *

Monday went much like Friday had. Zim wasn’t in English. Or History. Government. Lunch.

Skool let out, and still, no sign of the little green alien.

“If you’re that worried, just go check on him, sheesh.” Gaz sighed, waiting for Pax.

“I’m not _worried_. Zim misses skool all the time.”

Pax finally burst through the doors, coat low on her shoulders, taking Gaz’s outstretched hand.

“Are you talking about Zim?” She guessed, turning to a nodding Gaz for confirmation. Pax spun back to him. “It wouldn’t hurt to just go and see how he’s doing. Maybe you two need to have another talk anyway, yeah?”

“I’m not going over to his house right now, I have—I have _plans_.”

“_You?_ Plans after_ skool? _Without Zim?” Gaz snorted a laugh. “Yeah right.”

“Well, I do! And I’m not letting him ruin it.”

Gaz just shrugged and kept walking.

* * *

Dib sprinted into his room, throwing open his door and wildly looking for that stupid pink shirt he had buried in his closet. He pulled it out in victory, smoothing out the wrinkles as he twisted his backpack around.

He’d change there. Or on the bus, maybe. He didn’t have enough time to do it here and hide it from Gaz.

Dib grabbed his wallet off his dresser and threw that in his backpack too. He checked his watch. He was going to be _late_—

“What are you running around for, son?”

Dib screamed. Foot shooting out to kick the door shut before his dad could see.

“_Privacy!_” He yelled out.

_Sweaters_. It was getting colder outside; he could start wearing sweaters over the shirt to skool. He’d do that tomorrow.

“Dib! Open your door, please.” His dad knocked as he spoke. Dib ignored him, tossing his backpack strap over his shoulder and grabbing his coat. One more stop in the mirror, trying to pet down his cowlick. Useless, _worthless. _He needed a _haircut._

He threw his door open, dodging eye-contact as he side-stepped his father.

“Dib, I—!”

“Sorry, dad! Late for something!”

Dib jumped down the stairs and made for the door, wildly patting his pockets. _Keys, I.D., backpack, shirt, wallet. _Phone?! _Phone._ Dib pulled it out and checked the city bus map. It was coming in two minutes, if he didn’t run—

“_Son!_ I just wanted to—"

Dib let the front door slam on his heels. It was his _first day_ and if his dad just _knew—_ well, if his dad knew there’d be a lecture.

_“Why waste your time with coffee, son, when SCIENCE!”_

Dib could see it so clear in his head. His dad disapproving, not understanding, disappointed, a cocktail of the three. He had been fighting through that his entire life, he couldn’t handle that today.

Houses blurred past him as he sprinted down the sidewalk. Right before the curb he jumped over the neighbors’ fence, to cut through the yards.

He _could_ work in Membrane Labs, now, he thought as he ran. He was old enough. His dad had wanted him down there for years, despite his age. But if he went, he would just face the same scrutiny as he did in Hi Skool. Those people knew him, most had heard the gruesome, most embarrassing details of his life from his father. There were no opportunities for fresh starts at Membrane Labs, and the worst part? Working side-by-side with the world’s greatest genius and near-absent father.

_“Dad, you were right, my whole life thus far has been a huge _fuck-up_”_

He’d die before having to admit that he had finally, sort-of, kind-of, gotten over his paranormal phase. Maybe.

Well.

He could still hunt on the weekends, right? And downtime? He could have normal friends and then moonlight as… himself. People had… hobbies.

He had only actually promised himself to stop wasting time with Zim.

_Zim. _

Dib jumped over the last fence and came to a stop.

He had Zim’s base bugged. The top floors, anyway. He hadn’t managed to get cameras anywhere past the first few levels in a long time. But.

Dib sighed and pulled out his phone. He stared down at his dark reflection in the screen.

Zim hadn’t shown his face all weekend. And today at skool… What if he was planning something? What if he… left Earth? Not that he cared. Dib chewed at his cheek.

He’d just _peak_. Two seconds, just to make _sure_ and then—

Dib startled as he saw the bus tear down the street.

Sprinting now, phone thrust back into his pocket and forgotten, he made his way towards the bus stop waving and shouting as the driver flew past him.

The bus pulled to a halt, a full thirty feet from Dib. And as he continued rushing towards it, the driver waited all of two seconds before pulling the door shut and starting off again.

Dib caught up just as the wheels screeched forward and he began pounding on the door desperately.

“_Hey!_ Come _on!_”

He saw the bus driver sigh, and just before picking up speed the bus stopped short once more, and the doors wrenched themselves apart.

“I’ll leave you next time, kid. You know how much they dock my pay, being late?”

“Sorry, sorry, here.” Dib threw his quarters down the slot and went to take his seat. The driver floored it before he even had a chance to sit down.

Climbing into an empty chair from the floor, Dib glared back up to the front.

He hated the bus. He needed a car.

He slung his backpack into the seat next to him and settled in to mindlessly watch as the suburb faded away to the inner city.

It wasn’t the best start to his first shift ever, that was for sure. He hated running late, even though he always seemed to be. But it could go _worse_. He guessed it hadn’t really started, yet, anyhow. Didn’t count. Dib looked down at his clothes. He suddenly regretted not changing into his shirt before his shift. He hoped jeans were okay. They never told him what to wear, really, but he had been to the café before, with Gaz and her friends. They had worn jeans, hadn’t they? What if he had to wear khakis. Or black shoes? Was he supposed to tie his hair up? It was pretty long now, and what if he had to wear a beard net? He only had stubble, couldn’t grow anything more than that, really, but still, should he had shaved? Had he ever seen anyone else wear a beard net there, or have a beard? Had he—

“Is this seat taken?”

Dib jumped, eyes shooting up to see a girl, standing in the lane, staring at his backpack alone in the seat. Long dark hair, dark make-up. She had a nose ring. A bright shining gold crescent, glinting at him.

“What?”

“Seat.” She huffed, pointing down with a black-painted fingernail. Dib glanced around him, and sure enough, every other seat on the bus now had a body in it. When did _that_ happen?

“Oh! _Oh_.” Dib scrambled and clutched his backpack to his chest. “Sorry, yeah.”

“Yeah, it’s taken?” She raised her eyebrow but sat down all the same.

“No, I meant—” She turned to put her earphones in and Dib slumped in his seat, back to his window. He exhaled. “_Yeah_.”

Whatever. His stop was in a few anyhow.

Dib waited to pull the cord until he could see the café down the street. He felt the girl glance at him as the bus slowed to a stop.

He stood up at the same time she did. Though she didn’t seem as flustered by that as him.

Composing himself, he followed her off the bus. At a very respectful distance that he was sure didn’t feel like stalking.

Dib shook his head. It was a _city bus_. Other people were getting off, too, it wasn’t just him. She wouldn’t think it was weird, _he _was being weird.

Smoke clogged the air as the bus sped away, and Dib watched the girl as she walked right into the café. He sighed and waited for her to go in before he followed. He was supposed to be here. He worked here. It wasn’t strange to follow her in. Why was he overthinking this? He should just turn around. Turn around and wait for the next bus and go home.

The door rang out as he opened it. The pink-toned, cat-themed café wasn’t too crowded. There were college-looking students near the back, a mom with two young children sitting up front, by the windows. Dib glanced around subtly for the girl who had just come in, but she was gone.

The guy at the counter stared at him strangely as he loitered. He was tall. Taller than him, and that barely happened anymore. Skull tattoos littered his arms. Brunette hair. Pink shirt. Dib’s stomach went tight with the thought; _Co-worker._

“What’s up?” He asked.

Dib shuffled over.

“You okay, dude?” The guy asked again, inching back as Dib got closer. Dib panicked, hugging his backpack tighter to himself.

“Um yeah, I uh. I work here?” Dib stumbled. “I mean, I’m supposed to work here, its uh, my first day—"

“Ah! You must be Dim. _Chloe!_” His stance changed immediately as he called out. Dib gazed back to the back room with him. Suddenly a blonde woman with bright green eyes peaked out around the corner of the back room, arms filled with muffin trays.

“It’s _Dib_.” Dib corrected him, watching as the girl moved around the doorframe, perfectly balanced.

“Dib! Give me one second, okay?” She grinned at him, moving to go back into the room before double-taking. “Oh! Where’s your shirt?”

“Here!” Dib shot his backpack up. “Sorry, I didn’t know if I had to wear it here or not, so.”

“No problem, there’s a bathroom in the back, on the left!” She answered, disappearing into the room.

Dib nodded and proceeded down the little hallway, moving around the patrons set up at the tables. A little door came into view and Dib grabbed the handle, twisting.

“_HEY!_”

“Ah! Sorry!” Dib pulled the door shut with a bang. But the second it clicked shut he felt it pull open again.

The girl from the bus.

“Try knocking next time.” She scowled at him, pushing past him in a bright pink shirt.

Fuck.

She flipped her dark ponytail as Dib scrambled around her into the bathroom, making sure to lock the door tight.

He dug out his own shirt and pulled it on, worrying at it in the mirror. It was fine. He would apologize. It’s fine.

Taking a deep breath, he nodded once and went back outside towards certain doom.

“Hey Dib, so I’m Chloe,” Chloe set the muffins down on the main counter and turned to shake his hand, smile bright. Dib shook it lightly, once. “I’m the shift lead. I’ll be showing you around!”

Dib smiled back as best he could and glanced down. Khakis. She was wearing khakis. _Oh no_.

“So, Heather, Darth, this is Dib! Dib; Heather, Darth.” She introduced him. Dib glanced down at both of _their_ pants. Jeans. Sneakers too. The relief that shot through him was deafening. What a stupid thing to be worried about.

“I’m Dib.” He said, stupidly. Embarrassment sharply coursing through him.

Heather, he now knew, half waved, going back to placing the muffins in the display case. Darth leaned against the register with a smile.

“So, first day. You look nervous.” Darth beamed happily at him. Dib glanced up and took his hand too, as he held it out.

“Oh, you know, just the normal amount.”

Darth laughed, going back to the line at the counter as Chloe led him away.

“So back here…” Chloe walked through the doorway. “Is the kitchen. I’m generally in charge of pastries, of course I help you all when needed.”

Chloe strolled through the kitchen, a smaller room with a single oven and dough mixer. It was messy, bright, pink like the rest of the shop. A cat clock hung on the wall, one of those with the tail and everything. It stared into Dib’s soul, and he had to tear his eyes away from it. This whole place was decorated like a grandmother’s house. Just more… coffee.

“Your big job is helping Heather with the drinks.” She continued. “You don’t have a closing shift today, so you don’t have to worry too much about dishes and closing procedures, so I’ll teach you that later.”

Chloe moved around her table to show him a shelf full of boxes, cups, and other liquids.

“This is our storage, if we run out here, there’s a room in the back alley I’ll show you. Cups, napkins, extra syrups for the coffees, tea bags… up here—” She reached towards a tablet mounted on the wall. “Is where you clock in.”

She pushed a few buttons, picking his name from the list and showing him how to start his shift.

“Think you got it?” She turned back to him.

“Y-yeah,” Dib nodded. “I think so.”

“Good! Now the hard part.”

She walked back out and went towards Heather.

“Heather can show you the tricky things, but all of our coffee recipes are printed out and taped up here on the wall, so not so bad. You’ll have one or two random orders that aren’t up here, but Heather pretty much knows those, she’ll help you out. And Darth is right here too.”

Darth turned around again to wink at him and Dib felt his face heat up. He turned away and tried to re-focus on what Chloe was saying, but occasionally he felt his eyes shifting back to Darth as he charmed the customers, smiling and laughing. One liners. It didn’t seem too hard; Dib could do that. He wasn’t bad looking, he didn’t think. If he chilled out and put on a smile, it’d be easy.

“Dib?” Chloe caught his attention again. He shot back with an apology that she grinned at. “No problem. You press here and here to work the maker, steamer, that’s very hot so watch out… Cups and straws… lids… What do you think?”

“I think I can get it, thanks.”

“Well, I’ll be in the back if you need me!” Chloe nodded, bouncing off around the corner and leaving him to his fate.

Dib glanced at Heather.

“Hey, I’m Dib.” He said, instantly wanting to stick his head in the steamer and press green, just like Chloe had taught him.

“Yeah… I got that.” She eyed him up hesitantly. “We met on the bus. And in the bathroom.”

Dib flinched away.

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Which part?” She glared, making him sweat for the moment she held it. But then her frown slowly pulled up into a smirk.

“No big deal” She laughed. “My friends call me Heath, by the way.”

“Oh” Dib answered, confused. “Cool, mine call me, um.”

“Dib?”

“Yeah.”

“Got it.” Her shoulders twitch with a laugh. She turned around to work on a drink.

With that, Dib stared out into the shop, watching the people in line move as Darth took orders. He fiddled with his hands, closely listening to some of the smooth come-ons Darth used. People left him pleasantly flustered. It was like Darth was a magnet. People liked him. A lot. And _easily_.

“So, Dib.”

“Yes!” He turned on his heels to face Heather. She met him with her eyebrow raised.

“You gonna stare at Darth all day, or you gonna help me make coffee?”

Dib’s face caught fire.

“Oh, uh, yeah, of course! Where do I…”

She huffed a laugh and pointed to a screen sitting in front of them on the counter.

“This screen tells you what Darth rings in.” She let him look as she scrolled through past orders, red, and new ones, green. “If you’re confused, he’s literally right there. Though I guess you caught that.”

Dib glanced over to see Darth leaning one elbow on the register, smirking at him. He winked.

“Yell at me if I get anything wrong, okay?” He said, eyes glinting.

“Okay” Dib tried to laugh back, nervously grabbing a cup and looking up the next order’s recipe. Anything to break eye contact and fade back into the background.

“And don’t worry. It’s your first day,” Heather whispered, shouldering him kindly. “You’re supposed to mess up. Gives me something to yell at.”

Dib let his grin fall the second she turned back to her work. He sighed mentally, feeling the drop in his shoulders.

But a few orders in, with help from Heath, and Dib finally felt somewhat accustomed to the layout and flow. Confidence came slowly, but it did come.

His four-hour shift went by in an eyeblink. The shop got busier as the day progressed, as classes and jobs let out, and people came in to relax and settle down to work on their projects. By the time Dib was able to look at the creepy cat-clock again, it was already seven-thirty.

“So, when’s this place close, anyway?” He chanced small talk between capping a cup and handing it over to the waiting customer.

“Closing shift gets here soon, they work till midnight.” Darth droned, distractedly scratching on a piece of paper with his pen as Heather started wiping down cups and counters.

“Can’t wait to leave already?” She asked.

“No, it’s just—”

“I’m _kidding_.” She punched his shoulder lightly and walked by him, carrying a few dishes to the back.

Dib blinked. He touched his arm where she had hit him.

He had always seen friends punch each other shoulders. He had never gotten punched before. God he was pathetic, but he couldn’t help the fuzzy feeling bubbling up in his stomach.

He hadn’t broken anything today. No accidents, no incidents.

Heather and Darth were smiling at him. _Laughing_.

It had gone _well_. His plan was _going well_.

Chloe suddenly popped back out from the room, flour heavily dusting her shirt.

“So! How’d the first shift go, huh?” She smiled.

“Good, I think!”

“Heather says you did okay, so I guess we’ll have to keep you!” She giggled, reaching down to remove the older pastries from the display case.

Dib couldn’t help the smile on his face as he turned around to address the doorbell. Three people came, entering the shop, two wearing pink.

“Mik! _Finally_.” Darth tore his own pink shirt off to reveal a dark tank top underneath. He left the counter just as a white-haired guy, Mik, Dib guessed, stepped up. He grinned as he fist-bumped Darth, taking his spot.

A tall, black haired girl ignored them both as they started talking, walking past all of them into the back room.

The last girl came up to where Heather and he were, stood at the counter. Heather half-waved at her as she leaned in, dropping her elbows to the marble.

“Cinnamon Chai?” Heather asked, already grabbing a mixing cup.

“Yeah, do we still have whipped cream?”

“Yeah, one sec.” She turned to look at him. “Dib, can you get this?”

“Yeah, sure.”

She handed the mixing cup to Dib and went to get more whipped cream from the back. Dib set the cup down and got to work.

“So, you’re the new guy, huh?” She winked at him, much like Darth had, leaning over the pastry glass. Her long brunette hair brushing over her shoulders.

“Yeah, that’s me!” He shot back with a smile of his own, mixing the ingredients and putting the cup under the steamer.

“Nice, I think we work together tomorrow.”

“Oh, nice.” He echoed back. This was easy. Smalltalk was _easy._ Dib felt on cloud nine, able to casually talk to a girl at the counter at his barista job. He was _killing_ this normal thing.

The machine beeped, and Dib poured the latte into its cup. He could have _skipped_ as he took it up to the counter, and feeling bold, Dib leaned in and tried out his own wink, just as he’d seen Darth do.

“Here you—”

Dib felt the cup slip through his hand.

He heard a gasp.

Every head in the shop turned to them, eyes wide.

The cup bounced on its edge, hitting the marble hard. Hot burning liquid surged up, out of the cup, splashing down onto the counter. The wave poured over the surface, soaking them both in an instant.

“_Oh_ my god!” Dib floundered, holding his burning hand and shirt out as he frantically searched for a towel. He winced in horror as the girl reared back wildly. “_Oh my god!_”

“I’m fine! I’m fine!” She reassured him quickly, little “ow”s escaping under her breath as she began pulling her own steaming shirt out of her pants and tearing it as far away from her body as possible. She stepped out of the puddle at her feet and started jogging towards the bathroom, Mik following her close behind and cursing.

“I’ll get her a shirt from the back!” Darth called out to them. He sprinted to the kitchen, glancing back to Dib and throwing him his own shirt before disappearing.

Dib caught it, pale.

He could feel his hand and torso swelling from the burns. He chanced a glance back to Heather. She stared at him, whipped cream still in hand. 

“What happened to Maree?” Dib heard a voice ask from the kitchen. The black-haired girl popped out again, staring up at Dib as he stood there, dumbstruck, hand and shirt still held a foot from his body.

“Coffee spilled.” Chloe answered her, pushing past. “You need to get your hand under some ice Dib, here.”

She handed him a sandwich bag full of ice she had hastily put together. Dib took it and began wrapping it around his palm.

Darth came jogging out, fresh shirt in hand. An extra uniform. Chloe took it from him and moved around the counter.

“I’ll go give this to her, get him clocked out, would you?”

Dib broke for the kitchen, carefully removing his coffee stained shirt and replacing it with Darth’s. Darth and Heather followed him in after a second.

“I’m so sorry,” Dib apologized, suddenly able to talk again. He balled his uniform up in his hands, ignoring the pain shooting up through his fingers. “_Gosh_, I’m so sorry. Is she okay?”

“She’ll be fine.” Darth mumbled, making his way to the tablet on the wall to clock him out.

“Who is she, anyway?” Dib hissed as he fiddled with the ice bag and brought it down onto his stomach.

“My sister.” 

“Mik’s girlfriend.”

Darth and Heather answered, respectively. Dib dropped down to a milk crate, speechless.

“I’m _so sorry._” Dib said again as Darth left for the front, leaving without answering him. Heather hesitantly looked around the corner before turning back.

“When does your bus come?” She asked.

Dib looked up at that stupid clock.

“Soon.”

“You should probably go, then.” She stated before sprinting towards the bathroom with her own bag of ice for _Darth’s sister_.

Dib shot up without arguing. He grabbed his backpack before tearing out of the café towards the bus stop, not looking back. The bus pulled up just as he got to the stop. He threw his money in the slot and collapsed into a seat in the very back.

Dib dropped his head in his hands.

He had just burned a girl. Darth’s sister. Mik’s girlfriend. His co-worker.

His face was hot. His stomach hurt. His hand was swelling.

_He burned her._

Mercifully no one was home when he banged the door shut. Dib raced up to his room and threw his shirt off, _Darth’s shirt_, slamming himself into his mattress. He should have stayed to see if she was okay. God, what kind of _jerk_ just _burned someone _then _went home._

Dib shuffled back and looked at the marks on his stomach. They were angry, red, burning still. He had blisters wear the liquid had hit him directly. He could only imagine what he had done to _her_.

He couldn’t do anything now but change his name and quit his job. It had been going so well. And he would have to work with her tomorrow, if she didn’t have to go to the hospital first.

_Fuck._

No. He’d go tomorrow. He could apologize and fix this. _It_ _had been going so well._ He could _fix_ this. He—

_He couldn’t fix this._

Dib groaned and he buried himself under his blankets, hiding from the world. And if he stayed up into the early morning, reliving the nightmare over and over in his head, cursing himself, eyes red and wet, no one would know.

No one was there to see.


	3. UPDATE

Hello! Quick update; I've decided to turn this into a comic, instead of continuing to write this story...  
If you're still interested in following along, I'll be posting to my Tumblr 

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lifetenwaystillthursday

Thank you, and I appreciate your interest in this stupid little au!  
xx


End file.
